


[Awakening]

by zosimos (trismegistus)



Series: Fullmetal Alchemist [15]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: FMA Big Bang, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/zosimos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FMA Bigbang 2012/2013; Roy/Ed - Their relationship, in three parts. [Clocks]: The long passage of time. [New Beginnings]: Even Alphonse can't believe that they can be that oblivious. [Touch]: A brief encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clocks

It had been two months, seventeen days, thirteen hours and eleven minutes. Roy Mustang knew this by heart. the ticking of the watch in his breast pocket was an ever-constant reminder of the passage of time. He could feel the slight vibration of the second hand even through his thick jacket, and he was not aware that he was tapping the point of his pen in accordance with it until Riza lifted her head and said, pointedly, “Sir.”

Roy guiltily put down the pen.

At first it was only a joke, the rumor flitting about the base. It made the rounds of the soldiers' barracks and the canteen both. Edward could not possibly be bothered to pay attention to THOSE, rumors were passed around about the diminutive alchemist and his curious little brother in the suit of armor all the time. It hardly affected him, until Lieutenant Havoc decided to take it upon himself to explain the nature of these particulars rumors in painstakingly graphic detail. Edward's head had shot up and pinned Roy with a glare, his wide golden eyes glinting in the afternoon sunlight as he announced loud enough for the whole office to hear, and then some - “they think we're FUCKING!?”

It was not an uncommon rumor. It was a well-known fact that Colonel Roy Mustang had an eye on advancement, and as a direct result the rumor mill was constantly kept busy. If it was not the newest secretary in the typing pool, it was a high-ranking visitor from another garrison, called in to Central City on official business. Roy was used to this sort of racy rumor, to the point where he had all but forgotten about them. It was not the first time that gossip mongers had romantically linked him to one of his own subordinates. He doubted it would be the last.

The rumor of an inappropriate relationship between him and Edward was almost the least damaging, in that respect. Edward's legendary temper tantrums and rather blatant insubordination did not go unnoticed, and his own personality would serve to quell the most vicious of the rumors. 

Edward's eyes reflected in the dim light of the supply closet like a cat's as his hand found Roy's shoulder and gripped it tight. “They think we're fucking,” he murmured playfully into Roy's ear, the last syllable lost in a pinched gasp as Roy's mouth found his.

* * *

Two months, twenty-three days, nine hours and forty-seven minutes. Roy stared mournfully at the clock in the conference room, superstitiously afraid that if he took his attention from it, the minutes would find a way to wind backwards and prolong his torture. It was easy to ignore the bickering of Colonels Barton and Blackwell and think rather lascivious thoughts about thick, muscular thighs. General Brown cleared his throat and fixed Roy with a glare that managed to slide right off of him, and Roy smiled at the general, silky-smooth and unshaken.

Edward had moved into the gangly teenager stage later than most, on account of his growth spurt being delayed considerably until his brother once again wore flesh. He was still not quite sure what to do with himself – he had gotten tall fast, he was nearly as tall as Riza and if he did not stop shooting up like the proverbial weed then he might soon be taller than Roy. This was an indignity Roy was not sure he would be able to live down, but all signs thankfully pointed to Edward's progress halting well before then. 

He carried himself with a peculiar, awkward grace – as if he was not always certain of himself and his movements. Roy still teased him, gently, about his height and his new-found clumsiness. Edward would glare at him sulkily over his books, his face flushed red and his mouth turned down in a sharp grimace. Roy enjoyed the expressions that Edward would make, he never bothered to hold anything back – he pouted still, lips pressed together – and Roy could easily see those lips wrapped around him, deep-throating like the girls in the brothels. The flush hit him fast and hard, and Roy had to excuse himself to the washroom to splash cold water on his face and stare at himself in the mirror.

Two months, twenty-three days, ten hours and twenty minutes.

*

It was not supposed to end up like this. Roy was supposed to have control – he was the adult, after all, the experienced one – and he had nestled Those Dangerous Thoughts away, under lock and key in the deepest recesses of his mind. It should have been safe – but it wasn't, not with Edward's automail hand on his thigh as he leaned in close, a concerned expression on his face.

Maybe he shouldn't have kissed Edward, but Edward kissed him first.

* * *

Three months, two days, two hours and six minutes.

The fire crackled in his hearth, built high and warm, orange flames dancing seductively around thick wooden logs. Roy stared through it and thinks of its reflection in warm golden eyes. The ice in his glass clinks as the cubes crack.

Three months, two days, two hours, and eight minutes.

* * *

It had been raining the day that Edward turned up on his doorstep. He had taken to wearing real adult clothes; trousers and vests and not those shamefully indecent leather pants. He still liked to wear his famous red coat and red-soled boots, though, as if challenging defiantly the idea that he had bothered to mature. The rain plastered his hair to his head, and his eyes were wide and far too bright for Roy to look at comfortably.

Edward had barged in, barely waiting for the invitation and nearly bowled Roy over. He pinned Roy back to the wall – Roy had to have five inches and forty pounds on him still and he did not stand a chance – and then Edward was kissing him sloppily, rainwater dripping into his eyes.

Roy really did not know how they made it to the bedroom, but they ended up on his bed. Edward was naked and glorious, sprawled out on his back with his golden hair fanned out around his head. Roy stared down at him, almost unaware of what he was doing, his heart beating nearly out of his chest as they moved together. It felt new and familiar all at once, and he doubled over Edward, gasping into the sheets as Edward clawed bright scars across his shoulder blades and howled his satisfaction to the ceiling.

Roy panted into warm, ticklish flesh and wondered at what point this had spiraled so far out of his control.

* * *

Three months, nineteen days, twenty hours and three minutes.

The bed was lonely by himself. Roy slept in the chair.

* * *

There was an explosion near one of the shantytowns set up on the outskirts of the city. There was half a building leveled by the resulting explosion – the old brick edifice had previously been condemned by the city but squatters had set up an entire community in the crumbling building. The military spent days sifting through the wreckage and recovering bodies. It was gruesome, harrowing and tiresome work. In the midst of it all, before the report came through on the cause of the explosion, several terrorist groups stepped forward to claim responsibility – one specifically claiming that their air specialty alchemist had orchestrated the entire event.

It was heavy work, and deeply distracting. From being out in the field, dealing with the actual debris and body removal to running the radio rooms and trying to track down all the claims of terrorism that ran the gamut from Ishbalan extremists to rogue alchemists, Roy almost completely forgot that the clock still ticked onward.

The reports finally came in at the three week mark that the cause of the entire thing had been a gas main explosion and that terrorists had absolutely nothing to do with the tragedy. It was late when the official word came in, well past dark and Roy sat forward, elbows on his desk and he rubbed his eyes, the exhaustion of the past month weighing heavily on him.

Four months, one day, nineteen hours and two minutes.

* * *

The clock chimed twenty-three hundred hours. Roy was still at work, paperwork spread out all around his desk, one hand in his hair and the other supporting a folder as he read the pages tirelessly. He had pushed through the fatigue and the exhaustion and had come out on the other side, in this strange, almost tranquil twilight state.

There was nothing for him at home, so he stayed at the office and worked. No one had mentioned to him how haggard he had gotten, his dark hair lank and dark circles showing under his eyes. Maybe it was simply because everyone looked haggard right now, the long hours worked in the bloody aftermath of the gas main explosion only starting to wear off as people were returning to normal schedules and normal expressions.

Riza knew, however. She always knew, she watched him with a firm and knowing eye, her mouth pressed in a thin line of disapproval. He knew it was particularly bad when she had stopped in his office earlier today (or was it yesterday? The days had merged into a blur) and actually told him to go home and sleep. Roy had nodded his head absently at her, and opened another folder.

When the door to his office clicked open, Roy did not bother to look up. He flipped another page in the folder, eyes scanning the lines but not really absorbing the words that he was reading. He only looked up when he heard the door shut, and raised his eyes to meet Edward's from across the office.

(Four months, seven days, seven hours, and six minutes.)

Edward blinked at him, a little perplexed. “I took an earlier train,” he said by way of explanation. “I finished up in Yoswell last – the new commander there is doing really well, they're working with the villagers instead of bossing people around, wonder who they learned THAT from-”

He was wearing a military uniform. Roy had seen him in it before, but he had not bothered to wear it with any regularity. Roy let the words wash over him as he openly stared at Edward, exhaustion bringing his guard down. Edward had taken the stiff blue outer jacket off, it was folded under his arm with his suitcase, but he was actually, for once, wearing the military uniform. The rest of his clothes must have been dirty, it was the only explanation that Roy's tired mind could fathom. Edward was still talking, apparently not noticing that Roy had been stunned into silence.

(Four months, seven days, seven hours and eight minutes.)

“-had to help birth a goddamned COW, Winry is going to have a fit if I got any afterbirth in my automail or anything.” Edward dropped his suitcase to the floor and really looked at Roy. “You all right, Mustang? You look like you've lost weight.”

(Four months, seven days, seven hours and nine minutes.)

Roy was up and out of his chair before Edward could even react, crossing the room and grabbing Edward's arm. Edward was startled but did not pull away, letting Roy yank him forward, tipping him backward and kissing him. Edward wrapped his arms around Roy, one hand on the back of Roy's head as he eagerly returned the affection.

Roy lifted his head, staring down at Edward in his arms and it was as if all those months had been stripped away. Edward beamed up at him, somewhere between amused and aroused and clearly undecided. Edward's fingers tightened on the back of Roy's head, his eyes sliding to half-mast and he slowly licked his lips.

“I missed you too,” Edward said huskily.

(Four months, seven days, seven hours and ten minutes.)


	2. New Beginnings

Watching Edward Elric stalk around the office reminded Roy of a captured wolf he had seen once in a zoo. The animal paced, head down, brilliant golden eyes flashing as it measured the length and breadth of its cage. The creature moved with a sinewy, lethal grace; a predator certain of its environment. To ascribe the same traits to Edward seemed to do a great injustice to the alchemist – a wolf had nothing on the predatory spark that had only recently appeared in Edward's unnatural eyes.

He had matured greatly in the past few years. No longer a child, he had grown taller – blond hair still worn long, swept back now into a ponytail and not the heavy plaited braid he had favored in his youth – and the general klutziness of an awkward teenager had transformed into a staggering, silky grace. Having him in the office afforded Roy a great distraction from his own work; just watching Edward move from desk to desk to pick up reports at Lieutenant Hawkeye's behest was enthralling. It was a great shame that he had fallen out of the habit of wearing those sinfully tight black leather pants that left nothing to the imagination, but then Roy would really not get anything of merit accomplished on the clock.

Edward lifted his head, as if sensing Roy's gaze on him, and Roy could not bring himself to look away in time. A single gold eye, narrowed slightly in amusement – or was that irritation? - glanced back at him through a sheet of blond bangs. Despite all his years of practice, Roy could not help the smirk that settled on his features. Edward's eye flickered back to the report that Lieutenant Havoc was speaking to him about and Roy felt satisfied by the expression he had glimpsed crossing Edward's face.

Roy glanced to the side and caught that Riza was staring at him. It was all that he could do to keep his face from flushing at the intensity of her gaze; her brown eyes were narrowed thoughtfully at him. She knew – he KNEW that she knee, even if they had never spoken of it, there was no way that this escaped the legendary Hawk's eye – but she kept quiet. There was no disgust, no disapproval – just a silent, intense look that reminded Roy that they were at the office, there were other people present, and it was not just Roy's career that he was putting on the line. Roy nodded his head, accepting her chastisement, and focused his attention on the arrest reports that sat on his desk. Edward was now a common fixture in this office, there would be plenty of opportunity to ogle in the future.

It had been two years ago now that their torrid affair had started; Edward still so much smaller than Roy, his chin tilted in defiance even as he exposed his neck to Roy's mouth. It had taken years, honestly, of dancing around the issue – Roy had refused to acknowledge any attraction or even any attachment to the much younger alchemist. Edward was stunning even then, brilliant golden hair and bright eyes staring him down and unafraid of the consequences. He could not have understood those same consequences, he was far too young – but then again Roy was dismissing the fact that Edward surprised him at every turn. Even then he met and matched Roy at every turn – clumsily, granted, graced with the inexperience of youth – but unafraid of what he was asking for, what he knew Roy to be capable of.

The amount of trust that Edward put into Roy staggered him with the sheer weight of its responsibility. Roy kept telling himself that it was not a relationship, they were not a couple – this was just sex, a mutual attraction, and a stand-in for a real relationship (whenever Edward noticed the world around him outside the military) and moved on from whatever this weirdness was that the two of them had. It was only a matter of time until Edward discovered himself in that fashion – he could not be blind to the looks that the young women in the typing pool gave him.

All the same, their not-relationship kept … progressing. It was supposed to just be this thing, this physical release to keep them from staring at each other like this where people could see them. Edward was in desperate need of such a release, and Roy could not begrudge him this. It meant that Roy was allowed to worship his body, put mouth and hands on him with the express purpose of relaxation. It was not a purely selfless act, of course – but they both acknowledged it. Edward never spent the night in Roy's bed. In fact, they rarely used the bed at all.

Edward turned from seventeen to eighteen; vanishing for several heart-wrenching months in which Roy though that his entire world had crumbled around him. However, one sunny spring day Edward returned, half a head taller with a brand-new set of automail; a bedraggled, blond-haired boy in tow and he very smugly introduced the office to his younger brother. Despite intense and rather unorthodox interrogation from Roy, Edward somehow kept quiet on the exact nature of the transmutation that had to occur to free Alphonse from the steel cage of armor. Truthfully, it did not really matter – Roy was just intensely glad to have Edward returned to his arms.

And then from eighteen to nineteen, Edward graduated from fiery reds and ass-hugging black leather to calmer blues and silver in the form of the familiar military uniform. He was a fixture around the office now – Roy would still give him the occasional mission, but with his brother restored Edward tended to dither. He hung around; he helped Riza sort paperwork and shot the shit with Jean. He could be found crouched over Kain's desk, watching with intensity as the communications specialist fiddled with the innards of a radio. Somehow, he acquired duties – mostly relating to delivering paperwork to the right hands. It was a startling change from the loud, violent nomad of the past who graced the office with his presence only begrudgingly.

Roy attempted to keep the yawn bottled up as he scanned the arrest reports. It was warm in the office, the full force of the morning sun amplified by the wall of windows behind him. Arrest reports were dry and dull, even reading about the injuries sustained by the brigands was boring. Roy did not look up when the shadow fell across his desk, instead tapping the bottom of one of the pages with his finger. “Do you simply enjoy breaking the teeth out of people's heads, or was this another accident, Fullmetal?”

Edward frowned at Roy. “You make it sound like I have a fetish.”

“It is somewhat concerning that you singlehandedly keep the dentist in business in this town,” Roy said lightly, finally taking the time to look up at Edward and raising an eyebrow. “Do you have an off-the-books agreement with someone I should know about?”

“Huh, never thought of that,” Edward said. “Leave it to you to sniff out a conspiracy where there isn't one. Besides, it's their own fault if they run into my hand with their face.”

“It appears that they ran their face into your fist multiple times,” Roy murmured, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice and mostly failing. Edward rarely punched people with his automail. While he still got into frequent scrapes, if he led with his prosthetic Roy had no doubt that the offending party had DEEPLY deserved it. He looked back down at the arrest report, and then up at Edward, who was very clearly waiting on him. “Did you require something, Fullmetal?”

Edward was still frowning. “It's lunchtime. Are you going to sleep at your desk again today, or do you need me to get sandwiches again?”

Jean tittered in amusement and Roy shot him a sharp look. “I do not sleep at my desk.”

This pronouncement caused Jean to stifle a snort, and Roy's expression got darker. Edward had not budged an inch. “You drool all over your paperwork. If you're not sleeping, then I don't want to know why you drool so much.”

“I don't sleep at my desk, and I don't drool!” Roy said. Jean had risen from his seat and wisely fled the room, chortling the entire way. Edward shrugged, tapping the files in his hand against the corner of Roy's desk.

“Doesn't matter to me if you're sitting back there sleeping, eatin', or jacking off, thou' I wager Hawkeye would cut your dick off if she caught you with it in your hand. Sandwiches, then?”

Roy put his head in his hand and sighed. “Ed, we have got to work on your professionalism.”

“Fuck professionalism,” Edward said sagely. “I have work to do.”

* * *

Alphonse Elric sat in the canteen, also wearing the Amestrian military dress blues. He had his head in his hand and a notebook open at his elbow, a mostly-untouched tray of food sitting before him. Most soldiers gave the tow-headed alchemist a wide berth, as Alphonse had an expression on his face that warned people he was busy.

Edward had been strongly against his little brother officially joining the military. He was stuck, it was not like once they restored Alphonse to flesh Edward would able to easily sever the leach that the military had on him. Strangely enough though, Edward did not seem to mind. With the Fuhrer ousted and the homunculi dealt with – corruption had not ceased entirely, but the military had finally started to make strides in the right direction, attempting to make up for its crimes. Edward apparently figured that he could do more good from inside the military than he would from the outside.

Alphonse was the same way. It was idealistic and very, very naïve – he knew it down to his bones, he had seen the very ugly side of the military just like Edward had. However, he had also seen all the good that this military could be capable of under the right leadership, and he had to believe that there was a way to fix the military from the inside. Especially if they could get the right person into power.

So Alphonse had sat for the State Alchemist's examinations without Edward's knowledge – Edward had, predictably, thrown a fit, but he had since come to accept that his brother was now his own autonomous person and he had his own life to live. (He had perhaps also been helped along with this discovery by Alphonse's fists.)

None of that, of course, stopped his brother from plopping down opposite him at the table and promptly stealing half his lunch. Alphonse looked down at his plate, and then up at his brother accusingly as half a sandwich disappeared down Edward's insatiable gullet. “That was my lunch.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Edward said, licking the fingers of his left hand. “What are you still doing down here, I thought you were on your way back to East City today.”

“Departure got moved back a week,” Alphonse said glumly, tapping the pencil against his notebook. “Winry's gonna kill me.”

“Good,” Edward did not sound sympathetic to his brother's plight. “I don't like you goin' to East City to work for that Collins guy.”

“Colonel Collins,” Alphonse said idly, stopping to scratch out a few more notes.

“Whatever. I don't trust him.” Edward flicked some crumbs across the table, and then set his chin in his hand. “You should stay here.”

“I can't get assigned to Colonel Mustang's unit, brother, we've already had this discussion. Not only is it frowned on to have siblings in the same unit, that would make for a disproportionate amount of State Alchemists in one garrison.” Alphonse looked up in time to see the remainder of his sandwich disappear down Edward's gob. “BROTHER!”

Edward shrugged. “Snooze you lose,” he said.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” Alphonse asked with a sigh, looking forlornly at his now empty lunch tray. “Aside from sniping my lunch.”

“Mustang's pretending to work through lunch again, so I'm on delivery duty,” Edward tugged at the collar of the stiff blue military jacket and sighed heavily. “Everyone else has gone out to lunch, so the idiot'll be asleep by the time I've gotten the food. Figured I would dawdle a bit and let him sleep as long as possible.”

Alphonse smiled. “You're considerate.”

“Considerate, hell,” Edward said. “The moment I bring him the food he'll start mucking up his reports, sprayin' crumbs and shit everywhere. Figure I might as well hold off as long as possible so we get to witness a Riza Hawkeye dressing-down.” Edward rested his chin in his hand. “Sometimes it's like taking care of a small child.”

His brother chuckled in amusement, and Edward looked at him. “I don't like it when you laugh at me like that, Al.”

“Brother, you and Colonel Mustang are like an old married couple. I really thought Winry was kidding, but she's completely right.”

Edward opened his mouth to fire off a sharp (and fairly rude) retort, but then closed it sullenly. “Winry said that?”

“It's cute,” Alphonse said, taking a sip of his water. “You two.”

“I am NOT cute,” Edward said, his eyes glinting dangerously. Alphonse noted the danger, and then promptly chose to ignore it. “We're also not a couple.”

“Sure, you're not,” Alphonse nodded to himself, and then tucked the pencil away behind his ear and raised an eyebrow at his brother as he closed his notebook. “Everyone knows about you two, it's the worst-kept secret in the entire base.”

Edward's face flushed red, right across his nose. “Yah, you're lying through your teeth. The only people who know about it is you, Winry, and prolly Hawkeye, because nothing escapes her ever. Besides, we're not a couple. We're just friends.”

Alphonse chuckled. “You forget, I've seen the way he looks at you; AND I've seen the way you moon over the thought of him whenever we go visit Winry and Granny Pinako. The only person you're fooling, brother, is yourself.”

Edward huffed angrily as Alphonse stood and lifted his tray from the table. “Ah, go an' boil your stupid head!”

This only caused further merriment from Alphonse, who prontly winked at his brother and strode off toward the dishwasher to drop off his empty tray. Edward stewed a little longer, staring at the stained wooden table, before shifting himself up to hunt for food. Alphonse's sandwich, after all, had barely sated him.

* * *

Roy slept light whenever he napped at work. He had been trained, like all soldiers, to catch some shuteye whenever he got a moment's respite and had no trouble dropping off in an eyeblink. However, with Riza lurking about he knew he had to sleep carefully, because she did not look kindly on his narcoleptic tendencies.

The click of the door to the outer office made him raise his head, blinking away the muzziness that came with a quick nap as quickly as possible. He was in the process of swiping his sleeve across his mouth to check for any drool (he did NOT drool, dammit, but now Fullmetal had him paranoid) when the man himself walked into the office. Edward was grinning, and that put Roy on edge.

It had warmed up considerably during the day, and somewhere Edward had shed his stiff blue outer jacket. The rest of the military uniform Edward did not seem to mind, but the first excuse to remove it and the jacket vanished (at least twice, without a trace). Underneath, he wore a white button-down, long sleeved, with matching white gloves. It was startling how much older the military uniform made him look, even when he was grinning like that.

“You okay, Mustang?”

Roy made his gaze as frosty as possible. “When we are in the office, Fullmetal, I expect the proper respect paid to my rank.”

“As opposed to what?” Edward dropped a wrapped sandwich on the desk and smirked at Roy. He had that look in his eye, the tilt to his chin of aggression and Roy shook his head. “What did your brother say to you this time?”

Edward was doing a lot better at keeping his emotions in check, but even still he let the flutter of surprise dance across his features. “How did you know I talked to Al?”

“Because you two are constantly conspiring in corners. If I was not certain you were wholly on my side I would be watching my back.” Roy unwrapped his sandwich slowly.

Edward's grin turned sharp. “What makes you think you shouldn't be?”

“I would hear your coup de tat coming three weeks prior to the event,” Roy said, watching with some amusement as Edward's smirk rearranged into a tremendous scowl. “Alphonse, on the other hand, is the one I need to watch out for.”

Edward huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms and regarding Roy skeptically. “You realize now, that if you get into a position of power that I am duty-bound to overthrow you.”

Roy actually laughed at that, which only irritated Edward further. He stood from his desk and Edward snorted, refusing to present Roy with his back, his shoulders hunched forward slightly. Roy walked around the long line of desks and opened the door to the hallway. He glanced left and right, before closing the door and locking it.

Edward's shoulders relaxed. “No.”

Roy glanced up at him and arched his eyebrow. “No?” He repeated the syllable, completely nonplussed.

“Not until you agree I could overthrow your regime.”

“Lesser men quake at the thought,” Roy murmured smoothly, fingers trailing along the outside edge of Falman's meticulously clean desk as he walked. Edward sniffed.

“You're being sarcastic.”

“Am I?” Edward was watching him intently and he loved it. If Roy kept Edward's attention on him, he also did not have to worry about Edward thinking too much about them and how fragile their strange little arrangement truly was. “I don't think I am, love.”

Edward's shoulders hunched again, defensive. “Don't call me that.”

Roy reached for Edward, and Edward at least did not flinch away from his touch. The rough pads of Roy's glove slowly ran slowly ran down Edward's jaw. Edward's eyes were wide, gold, and utterly defiant. “Then what should I call you?” he asked quietly.

Edward looked away. “I don't know. I don't care. Just don't call me that.”

Roy sighed deeply, and that drew Edward's attention back to his face. “I don't know if I can keep doing this, Ed.”

Edward's eyes flashed, he was hurt by that. He took a step back, Roy's hand falling from his face. They were almost eye to eye, as adults – Roy missed that small advantage of height he had over the younger alchemist. “I knew you'd get tired of me,” Edward said, and although his expression was angry his tone was resigned.

There was a pause, and a long moment of sheer confusion for Roy. “Tired of you?” he repeated dumbly. “I'm not tired of you, you thickheaded moron, I'm in love with you.”

Now it was Edward's turn for honest confusion. His shoulders had hunched in protectively – presumably to help lessen the blow of whatever barbed words he had anticipated from Roy – and now he straightened again, puzzled. “You … what?”

Roy sighed. “I love you, you dumbass. I think I have for a while, but it's only just recently I've come to realize it.”

Edward's head cocked, first one way, then the other. Roy was reminded in a brief flash again of that wolf, before Edward blinked and actually laughed. Roy did not flinch, but the laugh clearly stung. “I hardly see what could be so funny in this matter, Fullmetal.”

Edward, on the other hand, clearly found the entire situation hilarious. He had clasped his hands around his middle and leaned back, into the desk that butted up against Roy's, laughing so hard he could no longer stand straight. Roy waited impatiently for Edward to regain some semblance of control, and Edward wiped his hand across his eyes. “Idiot,” he managed finally, and Roy straightened, his mouth pressed into a hard line.

“I don't take kindly to being ridiculed,” he said shortly.

Edward sighed a deeply satisfied sigh. “You are such an idiot,” he said reflectively. “Why didn't you tell me sooner?”

Roy stared at him, cold-eyed and impassive, and Edward sighed again. “Idiot,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Alphonse has more sense in his head than the two of us put together.” When Roy arched an eyebrow, Edward spread his hands. “Truth is I've been in love with you for so long I don't even remember what it's like not to be,” he said finally. “I've been trying to ignore it, because I figured you were only dicking around with a kid like me out of convenience.” 

Now it was again Roy's turn for puzzled confusion. “Wait, so you're in love with me?”

Edward placed the palms of both hands against the edge of the desk he was leaning against, cocking his head slightly. “Did I not just say that?”

Roy took a step toward Edward. “So you are in love with me.”

“Seems like.” Edward nodded his head, golden eyes sharp and drawn to Roy's.

Another step forward. “And I'm in love with you.”

“That's what you said.” The ghost of a smile was still hovering on Edward's face as Roy drew closer.

“And we've been having sex for how long?”

“Two years and seven months on Tuesday,” Edward said.

Roy was standing in Edward's personal space now. “How are we so blind to each other?”

“I don't know, but I bet Hawkeye does,” Edward said as Roy captured his wrist and tugged him straight. Roy brushed the bangs from Edward's face, before tilting his head just right and kissing him.

* * *

They walked home hand in hand. Edward had been the one to balk at that initially, with a concerned glance to the PFCs on guard duty. “Let them talk,” Roy said softly, slipping Edward's left hand into his right. “This is more important to me.”

Twilight came early, grey and heavy with the promise of rain. The weather was just unseasonably warm for this time of the year. Edward glanced down between them, the warmth of Roy's hand in his comforting and reassuring. They had touched so many times, in far more intimate ways, but this simple, public gesture felt far more scandalous than anything they had done before. Roy caught Edward's eye when he lifted his head and smiled softly. Cautiously, Edward smiled back.

It had been so sudden, so impromptu, that the enormity of their conversation had barely registered at the time. So many thoughts swirled around in his head, surprised at how easily the words had come tumbling out. He had lost sleep over this, spent nights wondering if he really felt like this or if it was some kind of leftover affection, the chemicals still rebounding around his brain after mind-blowing sex. He could not trust this to Roy; Roy who could shutter his mind and his emotions from Edward's gaze in the blink of an eye, Roy who manipulated him as a child and even as an adult (no matter his intentions), Roy who had purred soothingly in his ear as Edward screwed his eyes shut, accepting the brief spike of pain in the promise of greater pleasure.

But Roy had been dearly earnest. He knew. Edward could not fathom how he understood this, but he knew it in his heart and in his soul. Roy meant every word and then the words had spilled from Edward in relief and here they were, walking along the busy early evening streets, two men in military uniforms and heavy black greatcoats, hand in hand.

He HATED it when Alphonse was right.

Edward stopped walking, his hand slipping from Roy's. Roy stopped then as well, half-turning on the sidewalk and for the first time the fear finally surfaced in his voice. “Is this right?” Edward said, as the street lights glowed warm amber above them.

Roy looked at him, silent and considering. The twilight made his eyes darker than normal, washing out all hints of color. “Only if you want it to be,” he said, and then extended his hand again to Edward. Edward looked at his proffered hand, and then met Roy's eyes again before taking it.

*

Roy's house was familiar territory for them both. Edward clearly felt safer here, behind the closed doors and the drawn curtains. Roy watched as Edward tugged at the tie that restrained his ponytail, his blond hair falling loose over his shoulders. With his hair undone Edward scrubbed both of his gloved hands over his scalp, tangling the locks as he headed to his favorite room in Roy's house – the kitchen.

The warm fluorescent lighting reflected harshly off of the white counters and the fixtures. Roy shooed Edward gently away from the icebox, closing the door and instead turning on the percolator. “So this is it?” Edward said. “One grand revelation of love and things are back to normal?”

Roy smiled as he filled the pot. “What were you expecting?”

Edward leaned back against the small table that Roy usually ate breakfast at as he thought. Finally he crossed his arms and sighed. “I don't know. I expected something to change, not for things to feel exactly the same.”

“Well, something's changed,” Roy said, glancing over his shoulder at Edward.

Edward cocked his head, clearly curious.

Roy's smirk was lethal. “This time, you're staying for breakfast.”

Edward hesitated a moment, and the returned the sharp-toothed smirk. “I'll make you regret that,” he said, standing straight. Roy's eyes moved over him, slowly up and down and Edward's grin only grew.

* * *

It WAS different, Edward realized later, as Roy gently kissed the palm of his hand before twining their fingers together. The emotion that had been stifled for so long carried through so clearly, so cleanly, that each touch was made electric. Even on his back, Roy above him, his dark hair spiked mad with sweat but a playful grin on his face as he tucked his face between Edward's chin and shoulder, nipping at his throat playfully, Edward could feel it all in the air. He shuddered as Roy's teeth scraped his flesh, and he could not help the noise that tore from his throat.

He was surrounded by Roy, consumed completely by him. Roy's bed, warm with their heat and his scent, Roy inside him, Roy above him – Edward opened his mouth and tilted his head back, barely able to breathe. This wasn't a quickie in the supply closet, or blowing Roy under his desk at work, or even an enjoyable evening of fucking on the couch downstairs. This was everything that he needed and wanted, and he would never be satisfied with anything less.

Roy lifted his head and licked up Edward's jaw, their bodies pressed together, before he shifted, freeing his hand from Edward's to wipe the tears from Edward's face. “Ed?” he asked, his voice strained and concerned, one syllable containing a multitude of verses.

Edward shook his head, biting his lip so hard that blood shone on it. “Don't stop,” he said, trying to contain the whimper and failing. “Please, Roy-”

Roy moved them both, bringing their bodies even closer together so that he could kiss the tears away. “Don't worry, love,” Roy murmured. “I won't.”

When they lay together in the aftermath, sheets tangled across their bodies and Roy's breathing evened out in slumber, Edward brushed the hair plastered to Roy's forehead with sweat. He could not sleep, he was far too keyed up to sleep, nerves and adrenaline and endorphins all racing around in his bloodstream. So instead he just looked at Roy sleeping peacefully as he lay in his arms. Edward smiled, satisfied, as he realized that nothing would ever really be the same again.

* * *

_after living through those wild years_  
and coming out alive  
I just want to lay my head here  
and stop running for a while 


	3. Touch

It is dark by the time they make it back to base. Edward sits ramrod straight on the passenger side, his eyes fixed directly ahead as Roy leans out the driver's side window. They are both still in uniform – mostly – Edward's jacket is still in Roy's office. It is taking all of his self-control not to flush red, he is certain that even in darkness the M.P.s in the guard box will see the heat radiating off of his face.

He has had too much to drink. Edward knows that he has, he can feel the alcohol sloshing in his stomach and the intoxication is making his head buzz. He is drowsy and overly warm, but fighting through all of that were the words that Roy had murmured directly into his ear as they left the tavern.

Roy's breath had been warm on the back of his neck, sending a delightful shiver down his back. Edward inhaled deeply, and did not take his eyes from that fixed point as Roy took entirely far too long discussing the evening with the police on duty.

The tightness in Edward's pants was not going to go away anytime soon. Just the hint of Roy near him, Roy's warmth as they were squeezed into the too-small booth together with the others, Roy's breath feather-light on the back of his neck, Roy's hand on the small of his back steering him towards the standard-issue military vehicle and he was at full attention. Edward silently ran through the entire list of curses he had for his member, the thing had a mind of its own and he could barely control it. He refused to be aroused by the bastard colonel, he downright refused to.

Roy touches his arm, the pads of his fingers warm through the thin layer of collared dress shirt that Edward usually wore under the military jacket. Edward relents, his eyes darting first to the hand on his arm, and then to Roy's face. His eyes are utterly opaque in the darkness, it is hard enough to judge his emotions by daylight, in the darkness it is downright impossible. “Just up and back,” Roy murmurs. “We'll get your coat and I'll take you home.”

Edward swallows and licks his lips, his mouth unusually dry. Home is a small dark flat with a cold bed. He does not want to go home. “Okay,” he says instead.

The base is still alive with activity, even at this time of the night. There are fewer people in the halls, and no one really gives them a second glance. Roy moves smoothly, his head held high. Edward envies him this, he knows that Roy drank at least as much as he did, but the alcohol does not seem to affect him in the same way.

Somehow, Edward does not stumble into the wall as he watches Roy walk ahead of him. Roy moves swiftly, confidentially. Edward's eyes follow the lines of his body almost without his permission, and when he realizes that his eyes have fixated on Roy's ass he jerks his head and looks away.

He is not getting turned on by his commanding officer. He is not. Edward continues this religious chant of self-denial as he follows Roy back into the office. They had had a fight in here earlier in the day, Edward smarting off and Roy snapping back, the origin of the fight already a distant memory. Their relationship flows so easily like that, no grudges held over their mutual clashes. Edward's eyes were drawn to his coat, still where he left it tossed over the back of the couch – and that is why he does not have enough time to react when Roy grabs him.

Edward stares at Roy's hand on his wrist, his eyes going to Roy's almost in a panic. Why is Roy touching him? Does he not realize what he touch does to Edward? Edward swallows, his eyes gone wide, and Roy's dark eyes are as inscrutable as always.

Roy hesitates. “Ed,” he says, and the way he says Edward's name makes his cock twitch in his pants. Never before this has Edward ever been so grateful that the military trousers ride loose on him. Before another thought can cross his mind Roy tugs Edward to him. Edward does not have to think, he just does – one hand on Roy's neck, the other on his arm as Roy tilts him back to kiss him.

Everything is lost in this moment. Edward gasps against Roy's mouth, the taste of whiskey still lingers on his breath. Roy tips him back further off-balance, hiking Edward's leg with one hand to get them closer together. Edward closes his eyes and refuses to let the shame overtake him as Roy crushes them together.

His mind catches up to him a few seconds later. This is Roy Mustang that he is kissing – voluntarily. Edward twists his head to avoid another kiss and Roy nuzzles his neck, mouth and tongue leaving sloppy kisses down his jawline. He cannot reconcile this. The man who yelled at him just this afternoon, the man who sat squeezed between Edward and Jean in the tavern, the man who is now pressing their clothed groins together while he makes urgent noises against Edward's body – they cannot be all the same man.

But Roy is kissing him.

And Roy is grinding against him.

And … Roy is just as aroused as he is.

Roy lifts his head finally, a flush spread across his cheeks. Is that because of him? Edward finds this the weirdest bit endearing, he touches Roy's cheek with two fingers. “I'll shut the door,” Roy states, his voice thick in a way Edward had never heard before.

“Okay,” Edward says again.


End file.
